


The Child Playing Banker

by hisfoolishgirl



Series: APTX WATSON [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: And everyone reacts accordingly, And that is why he has the mind of an adult in the body of a child, BAMF John, Because Sherlock really isn't a good parent, Cause if you had to deal with Sherlock and literally everyone else treating you like kid, Especially when ya bamfing your way through everything, Gen, Kid!John, Only Tagged Conan in this one 'cause John took the APTX from that series, Or aka - the everyone thinks that Sherlock is the adult out of the duo, Parent!Sherlock, Shrunken John, Ya earn the right to be called a BAMF, and that is why we get shennagains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-26 03:39:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13849311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisfoolishgirl/pseuds/hisfoolishgirl
Summary: Sherlock smirked, and he glanced down at John, “Looks like we might have a missing person’s case to work on. You were right after all, John.”“Oh?” John looked up with a raised eyebrow, “How so?”“This is much better than studying ash,” He answered with a firm smile before looking back at the poor man who had taken to simply staring at Sherlock with a mix of shock, horror and hope.~ ~ ~A story in which Sherlock forgets that being a kid is something of a handicap - It's just so easy to forget that with John - and John, for his part, comes to realize that he's been doing the same thing as well.(Can stand alone, but props makes more if ya've read part one. Still no DCMK crew. Light crossover as such.)





	1. Going to the Museum

* * *

 

 

“You’re a genius, Sherlock. That’s what the last three months have made perfectly clear to me. You though - I may be the doctor here - but all of this is going completely over my head.”

“Come on, John,” Sherlock moaned, “Children have more plasticity in their brains- you should know this! If you apply yourself -”

“Ash, Sherlock! You are explaining _ash_ \- 130 plus variates of ash! I might have the understanding to keep up with on these difference, and the brain of a child might have the plasticity to retain such details,” John moaned, oddly for once appearing to be his apparent age, “But I also do not have the ability to sit still! _Or the desire to._ We need to do something more than this-”

Sherlock looked like he’d had his dog shot, “But, Dr. Watson-”

John wagged a finger at Sherlock’s face, “No. You do not get to play that card after handing me over to Mrs. Hudson for the morning. I know how you work, Sherlock. You did that so you could butter me up for this by treating me by my actual age-”

“I would not,” Sherlock moaned pulling off a closer impersonation to John’s apparent age then John had just finished doing, “I know better then-”

“No,” John set his hand on the table right beside the petri dish of ash, “No. You, Sherlock, know how to play people for what you want. Now,” John lifted that hand and motioned between them, “I’m not going to let you play me just because you _think_ you can.” John pulled out the Holmes provided cell - his mobile from Harry was locked away in his room - and he pulled up a tab he’d opened up late last night in an attempt to prepare for this very moment, “Museum. I got passes from ‘daddy dearest’ as he agrees to disagree with you on the matter of my ‘education’.”

Sherlock’s gaze simply died, “You went to Mycroft?”

“I went to Mycroft,” John answered simply, “Clearly, I had to. You don’t know how to listen to me. This what happens when you’re a prick, Sherlock.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “So, let me get this straight - If I learn how to ‘listen to you’ as you find to your liking - I can go back to living a life without my dear brother’s influence?”

John stared at Sherlock, “If you don’t give me a reason to go to him to work around you,” He said slowly, “Then yes. That is exactly what you’ll get - or at least you will lack a life with me going behind your back to get what I need to.”

Sherlock frowned as he stared at John for a moment before looked at the phone’s screen, “Tea ceremony?”

John nodded swift, sharply, “I’ll even do an essay about it to prove that you’re _teaching me things_ since we need a paper trail for my schooling. And I’m sure that showing that I know how to write like a kid will make both of you Holmes happy as well.”

Sherlock nodded, “You’d think after three months you’d be able to make as a passable child - but Lestrade is-”

“I think I have some leeway with what Scotland Yard thinks about me considering the fact that you keep dragging me to crime scenes - _and then bloody consulting with me on them_.”

“He thinks you’re Mycroft’s son!” Sherlock hissed in his defense.

John tapped the table,  “My point exactly. Now, grab that damn coat of yours - we are done staring at ash for the day.”

“So tomorrow-”

“ _Sherlock!_ ”

 

* * *

 

They stood in the crowd as the timid man proved himself to be exactly that performing the ancient Chinese tea ceremony. His answers were thorough, but his performance and shaking hands were more than enough to keep Sherlock’s attention. He glanced at John. It was always an odd thing, knowing that it was in fact a grown man standing beside him - his rather extensive and colorful vocabulary displayed back at time in the flat was proof enough for him, much less his clear command of the medical field - despite his appearance that wholly indicated otherwise.

Although admittedly he had grown a bit over the last few months.

Like right now, his rapt attention on a face that young always made Sherlock double take on the known facts. The seeming childlike wonder in his eyes - it almost looked like genuine child wonder rather then mature respect.

John glanced up at Sherlock and raised an eyebrow. Sherlock quickly turned his attention back to the display. The man set down the teapot, finishing the demonstration. Then, his eyes lingered over the antiques, with a glaze to his gaze, and the corner of Sherlock’s lips curled upwards, “What is it, Uncle Sherlock?” John hissed, keeping up appearances.

“You really are a magnet for danger,” Sherlock whispered back before slipping into the crowd to follow after the now departing museum attendant.

“Sherlock,” John hissed, but as the patter of steps behind him quickened he decided to pay no heed to it.

“Sir,” Sherlock called out, having deleted the man’s name from his memory already, “Sir!”

The attendant turned back and raised an eyebrow, “Did you have a question about the ceremony?” He asked.

“Not in the least,” Sherlock answered, “And I’d never have asked you about it anyways. You’re not the one that normally performs the demonstrations are you? Don’t answer. I already know - your hands shook far too much to be regularly put in charge of tending to those artifacts. No, my question is - Do you know what happened to the actual expert?”

The man stared at Sherlock. His voice broke as he answered, “No.”

“And you’re concerned. Why? She could have just skipped a day-”

“No. She would never have done that! She loved those teapots and her work restoring them. She wasn’t the sort to just skip out on her work!”

“Seems you’re quite sure about that,” John commented from Sherlock’s side. The detective didn’t need to look to know John had paired it with a solidly raised eyebrow.

The man nodded, “Yes! I’m worried, kay? Don’t look at me like that- there was nothing going on between us.”

“Not because you lacked interest,” Sherlock mumbled before a clap of his hands cut of the fellow’s defense, “How long has she been missing for?”

“A couple of days,” He answered with a nod, “Just stopped showing up to work...”

Sherlock smirked, and he glanced down at John, “Looks like we might have a missing person’s case to work on. You were right after all, John.”

“Oh?” John looked up with a raised eyebrow, “How so?”

“This is much better than studying ash,” He answered with a firm smile before looking back at the poor man who had taken to simply staring at Sherlock with a mix of shock and horror tinted with hope, “What would your co worker have done before leaving here for the night?”

“You think it had something to do with her work?”

Sherlock nodded, “Might provide a reason for her to stop showing up _to_ work - Makes sense to ask anyways. The more known variables that might have caused her disappearance the better.”

“You’re making something out of nothing, Sherlock.”

“No,” Sherlock answered, “I’m being clever, John.”

“What you’re being is an idiot,” John snapped back, “Maybe she stopped showing up because she felt uncomfortable with unwanted advances.”

“Um,” The historian started at the toe of his shoe, “Children,” He whispered, “They really do say the darndest of things don’t they?”

“Don’t worry,” John panned right back, “Uncle here is worse by a long shot.”

Sherlock cleared his throat, “Young girl. Disappearance. Investigating. Please let’s stay on topic - and, John, unless you’d rather go back to studying ashes, I highly suggest that you shut up now.”

The museum employee ran a hand down his face, “Follow me,” He croaked, “The last thing she would have done was put up her restoration projects…”


	2. Paint Job

 

 

* * *

 

 

“She would have put them in here,” The attendant stated as he started to move the rolling shelf out of the way so they could enter the aisle that had the collection of teapots. John gave the man his full attention until he saw Sherlock drifting away.

“I think,” Sherlock whispered as his stare brought John’s attention to a graffitied statue, “We found out what scared her to go into hiding.”

“Graffiti?” John asked.

“It’s a message,” Sherlock answered.

“But what sort of a message?” John poked.

Sherlock glanced back at John, smile wide on his face, “No idea.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I have a contact,” Sherlock said as he trotted down the steps. The street lights just flickering on as the sunset, “One who knows all the works of art that fill our streets. I’ll contact him to see if there’s any other occurrences of that message. Soo Lin might not be an isolated incident.”

John yawned, but he nodded, “Lead the way, then.” He glanced back at the screen of his phone and the picture he’d taken of the defaced statue.

 

 

* * *

 

Raz was an interesting contact as John came to find out, but considering the use of spray paint he really shouldn’t have been surprised by the character Sherlock knew. His hands covered his continued yawning, but when Raz threw the can in his direction he caught it all the same. The haze of tired bones kept him staring at the can, oblivious to the shouting and the guards that came running at the sight of street art being illegally pursued.

The two men stared down at John, a spray can in his hand and the bag at his feet. He looked up expecting to see Raz and Sherlock still standing beside him. They weren’t because of course they weren’t. They’d ran and ditched him. Then, he looked back at the guards that were staring awkwardly at him. He didn’t know what to say.

So, He did the only thing a tired little boy could do under those circumstances. He cried. The guards swooned, though the one in the back kept glancing off at the direction Sherlock and Raz had darted off into.

“Hey, boy,” The man kneeling beside him cooed. John was too tired to let his initial reaction of frustration interfere with his act, “Where’d ya dad go?”

“I don’t know,” John whaled, “I just want my uncle Lestrade. Uncle Sherlock is meanie. He left me here,” He rubbed at his eyes, and he looked at the officer beside him, “But Uncle Lestrade is a detective! A proper one with Scotland yard! If I’m ever in trouble he said - Can you call him for me?”

 

* * *

 

 

Detective Inspector Lestrade was sitting his office, at his desk, across from the wee John Holmes, “Sherlock left you behind,” He said drily.

John nodded, “I figured he might listen to you if you yell at him for abandoning me like that. He’d never listen if - father did that. He’d blame me for not running after him fast enough.”

Lestrade took a deep breath, rubbed the bridge of his nose. The boy was right, as much as he hated getting dragged away from the Missus, “John,” He said briefly, “Why are you with Sherlock anyways? I know you’re father might not be the safetest man to live with - because of the danger his job puts you lot in - but Sherlock?”

John shuffled about in his seat, and Lestrade knew he’d regret bringing up whatever was tormenting the boy, but he also knew he’d regret never having a proper answer, “Father, as you know, is hardly an ordinary one.” Lestrade snorted before he could stop it. John simply smirked, “And as you said he also has a very dangerous line of work what with what he does for the government. Lots of enemies - and,” The boy’s breath caught in his chest and while his eyes started to turn red he still struggled to ask Lestrade’s question, “And - after what happened to Mother. It was decided he couldn’t trust anyone but Sherlock to watch over me.” He looked at Lestrade, “I know considering the circumstances - it looks like that might have been the wrong choice. But he’s good to me Sherlock is, and we weren’t planning on investigating the disappearance of a young women today. I told him I was fine, Detective Lestrade. I told him I wasn’t tired. I lied to him, and he got carried away in his work. I let him that it was okay for it.”

“Considering you hold toe to toe with that man better then I do - and the fact that I believe you - I won’t bring this up to child services, but you know he needs your help to take proper care of you, John. You can’t lie about what you can or can’t do even if you want to help. He might as well be treating you like an adult since I doubt he has an experience with children, actual children like yourself. You know that right, John?” A reluctant nod, but a nod nonetheless, “That being said - he is the adult in this relationship,” Lestrade said with a smile, “I’ll give him a good shouting at as requested, kay?”

John looked up at Lestrade with a radiant smile on his face - which suddenly broke into a yawn. His cheek were blushed as he rubbed his nose after. Lestrade rolled his eyes, adorable little bugger, “I’ll get one of the boys to grab you a blanket if you want if you want to hit the couch. Not that it will be comfortable, but I figure being able to stretch your legs will be better then that chair is for a nap.”

John nodded, “You’ll wake me for the shouting right?”

Lestrade smirked, “‘Course, kid.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sherlock on the other hand, once he’d realized he was panting with Raz without the knee high man, had had the other man pinned against the wall, “Where’s John?” He hissed.

“The brat you dragged with you?” Raz snapped, “I don’t know - I’m not his guardian any more then you are!”

Sherlock dropped Raz, “You’re wrong about that,” He snapped before running back to the now vacant scene. He spun around for a moment as the panic pushed the adrenaline through his veins, “Mycroft,” He hissed as he snapped out of the haze and reached for his phone. He flipped it open and saw an unopened message.

New. From Mycroft.

He didn’t think about the implications that Mycroft had left the message for his convenience rather than call to gloat. He simply opened it.

_Smarter than you are - John is. He’s at Scotland Yard. Safe._

Sherlock felt himself breathing again, and as that haze of panic fully faded away he found himself reflecting on why that might be. John was after all a grown man, not an actual _child_.

 

* * *

 

 

Lestrade sat in his office, at his desk, this time with one unrepentant Sherlock Holmes standing in his door, “I see you have John,” Sherlock commented drily.

Lestrade glanced at the boy, and then he motioned for Sherlock to sit in the open chair. Sherlock sat and looked with his bored expectation that did nothing to calm Lestrade’s worry, “John wanted me to wake him up so he could listen to me shouting at you-”

“Not surprised by that,” Sherlock answered with the same dull tone that he’d used just moments ago, “That sounds like the boy.”

“No. Right now is the time for you to shut up and listen to me. Am I understood?”

Sherlock almost opened his mouth, but as the color was leaving his face he decided to close it and simply nod.

“Good,” Lestrade leaned back a little, “Now, Sherlock. Do you know what normally happens when a child is left abandoned by their legal guardian?” He paused, but Sherlock didn’t take the bait, “They’re taken away from them. I’m sure under normal circumstances then he’d handed back over to someone else in the family. But with what he’s told me,” Lestrade pointed at John, “What with his mum dying and Mycroft trusting you to keep him safe - he’d end up going into protective services, and everyone he’s known up to this point in his life would be pushed out of his life until that danger’s past - if it ever does. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was never considered safe for him to be with you again. But - I’ve seen how you work with him, I genuinely believe you care about him. He certainly cares enough about you and feels safe enough to call you out. He might even make a real papa bear out of you yet - but if you keep pulling stunts like this one, Sherlock. Well - I think I’ve given you enough to deduce what will happen, haven’t I? I don’t want that to happen, but -”

Sherlock stared at Lestrade with a face so carefully unemotional that Lestrade knew he’d made his point so he kept driving it home, “He’s a child, Sherlock. Despite how much you seem to treat him like anything else, and despite how much he seems to step up to those plates. He looks up to you, that’s what kids do. Don’t disappoint him, Sherlock. He might not be my nephew, but by god do you bring him to enough of my crime scenes - I most certainly see him more often then I do the actual lot that I share blood with. I’d hate to see something bad happen to him just because you couldn’t keep up with the new demands on your life.”

“I thought he was running right behind me,” Sherlock choked out, “I didn’t realize- “

“That’s my point,” Lestrade answered gently, “He told me he lied to you about how tired he was. Kids get worn out, Sherlock. They can’t stay up late. No matter how much they want to. They’re growing.”

Sherlock glanced at John, the panic on his face now reassuring Lestrade that he was making the right call by not calling child services. Donovan had tried to convince him that that was the right train of action to take. _Freak should never have been entrusted with a kid._ Lestrade smiled, but he schooled his face back into a stern disposition before Sherlock turned back to him, “If he doesn’t know his own boundaries and abilities,” Sherlock whispered, “Then how am I supposed to know from the straight off?”

Lestrade smiled, and he thought of the girls he had at home, “You don’t have to,” He answered simply, “Kids - they grow, change every day. What you have to do is be a safety net. Ya might end up over accommodating them, but it’s better to put them to bed too soon then end up with something like this happening again, don’t you think?”

Sherlock nodded, “I see your point, Detective, and I will consider how best to move on from this-”

“I’d been promised shouting,” John grumbled as he rolled back over, “Not sappy concern over my well being.”

Lestrade chuckled while Sherlock looked completely mortified. John’s groggy eyes opened and he stared at Sherlock. He raised an eyebrow, “I’m not offended,” John grumbled, “This is new to me as well, ya know. Never really - I mean, you know about the training that I went through before… ” John yawned, rolled back over and after a moment started snoring again.

“What was he talking about, Sherlock?” Lestrade asked with a raised eyebrow.

“That is above your paygrade-”

“Jesus Christ- I deserve to know, Sherlock.”

“Mycroft has kidnapped you before - do you want it to be more permanent? What John’s been through isn’t something that we talk about.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sherlock carried John up the stairs to 221b, and the boy still hadn’t reawoken since the incident at the station. He put the boy down on the couch, and he sat in one of the nearby chairs with his laptop.

“You know,” John whispered from his spot on the couch, “I’m surprised that it’s taken this long… ”

“Hm?”

“For my new condition to affect what I’m practically able to do. I mean, I doubt, I’d be much of a surgeon considering that’s my medical training at the moment, but considering Mycroft is paying my bills since I can’t legally get a job-”

“The crown is,” Sherlock whispered, “He is the British Government.”

“Oh - I know what banking number the government uses from my pension, Sherlock. It’s a private bank account that’s providing my stipend here into your accounts. Would have thought you’d have noticed that whilst going over the accounts.”

“Dull. I don’t look,” Sherlock admitted, “I don’t spend much and I have enough passive income that feeds in… ”

“I know, but still,” John grumbled, “But still, my point still stands. I’m surprised I haven’t caused you problems before now considering…”

“You took me away from my ash-”

“But I also gave you a reason to drool on about your ash, so that’s equivalent. But, It wasn’t even nine, Sherlock… I mean, yeah, my hours have changed, but… ”

“Feels real now?”

“I cried,” John admitted, “It was so they wouldn’t go after you and Raz, but it was easy. Between the being tired and confused… Explains why kids always cry when something happens, I suppose.”

“I wouldn’t know. You’re the only kid someone has entrusted me to be around,” Sherlock answered.

John smirked, “You’d probably show a real kid a picture of a headless nun or something if they asked about what you did for a living. You’d be rubbish with an actual child, Sherlock. No offense.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes but smirked as well, “Go back to sleep, John. We’ll have a long day tomorrow following up on that paint job.”

John nodded, “Fair enough… Did we remember to get groceries today?”

“No,” Sherlock admitted, “But I’ll go out and handle that.”

“Good,” John grumbled, “‘Cause now that I think about it I’m starved…”

Sherlock’s gaze lingered on the boy for a moment before he checked his email to find a message from Sebastian.

As he was messaging a reply to Sebastian - to accept the job - he was pinged by an email from Lestrade with the subject line - ‘About John…'

 

* * *

 

 

John had a sandwich in his hands, from Speedy's, as they stood at the front counter of a bank, “I thought you said you were getting groceries,” John grumbled. He glanced about as he nibbled on the sandwich, finally getting a moment to eat. Rudely awaken with a change of clothes to face, and then dragged down the cafe below the flat to get something to go. He had been lucky enough that Sherlock didn't rush through and order for him.

“Something more interesting came up,” Sherlock answered, glancing about, noting the odd stares that were leveled at him and John.

“Then the missing girl?” John asked, “I thought that was the case we were working on.”

“Yes, but we still haven’t heard from Raz,” Sherlock grumbled. He checked his phone once more just to be sure.

“And heaven forbid you sit still enough for me to finish a meal…” John grumbled.

"Not my fault you slept in so late," Sherlock replied with a frown. 

John rolled his eyes, and finally tucked into his sandwich with zeal. Now that they were no longer actively traveling he could properly tuck into the meal. It had been a bit of a surprise that Sherlock had let him stop by speedy's. Their work had left too many abandoned meals in his wake. At least he had his backpack with him. Mrs. Hudson had taken pity on him after their chats about the frequency that that had taken to occurring. So, she'd found a way to bribe and pamper the young lad that kept her company. He kept a backpack in her flat, chatted her up, and she’d leave him homemade baked goods tucked away inside of it. It held a textbook, a water bottle, the homemade goods and a rather complete first aid kit that John said Sherlock insisted that carry. It had all the supplies he felt comfortable with using - meaning that it was hardly the sort of thing just given to a child to take care of. Key part to their deal however was that they’d decided on was trying to make sure Sherlock not finding out about the food in the pack. Else he’d take to not even trying to feed the boy. That was something that John wasn’t about to risk. He was a growing boy after all. He hadn’t been the one that needed reminded of that by Lestrade.

Well, he had, but not in regards to be fed.

With the infrequent drugs busts on Sherlock’s flat as well, the text book inside had to servicing as a suitable hideaway for John’s gun as well since he didn't actually need to study while on a case to make sure all his 'school work' was done. Not that Sherlock ever let the gun stay in there, but that was where it was now.

“Sherlock?” Sherlock looked up from John with bored amusement as the secretary called his name, “He’s ready - you can go up now.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Sherlock Holmes,” The man said as he reentered his office. John sat in the chair, taking the convenience of his appearance to break the rules of formality. At least his second childhood had it’s perks.

“Sebastian,” Sherlock answered with equal enthusiasm. John wrapped up the little bit that was left of his sandwich, soldier instincts telling him that might need the energy later considering he was running around London with Sherlock Holmes, before tucking it away in his backpack and grabbing the water bottle in its stead.

“Howdy, buddy. How long's it been? Eight years since I last -” John’s loud slurping from his water bottle brought the banker’s attention to the tiny form now occupying one of the chair across from his desk. Sebastian glanced outside his office, “I am so sorry about this, Sherlock. I don’t know where the kid came from-”

“He’s with me, Sebastian,” Sherlock answered with a smile that nearly made Watson lose the innocent, oblivious expression he had finally mastered.

“Come again?” Sebastian stared at Sherlock. He glanced back at the boy and seemed to do the numbers in his head, trying to figure out John’s apparent age.

“I’m ten!” John said with a grin.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “He’s eight, and he isn’t mine. Clearly. He’s just under my care for the moment. Couldn’t find a sitter. Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” Sebastian answered slowly, “Just - surprised is all.”

“Why?” John asked. Sherlock’s sniffle was reward enough in John’s book for the way he managed to nail the performance of that line.

“Hm?”

“Why are you surprised that Uncle Sherlock has a kid with him?”

“No reason,” Sebastian answered quickly, “Adults just normally don’t have kids following them to work meetings is all.”

John laughed and rubbed his nose, “Says I’m his lucky charm - always bring danger with me wherever I go, I do.”

Sebastian’s face lost just a hue of color at that remark, “There’s a reason why I’m the one watching him,” Sherlock supplied, “I believe you emailed me to look into a matter for you?”

“Right,” Sebastian commented, “Please take a seat… Perhaps you can help me out with my bit of a problem.”


	3. Apartment Hunting

* * *

 

 

Sherlock and John stood outside the bank. Sherlock was staring down at the amount of candy in John’s hands. John looked up with a sticky face, “Hm?”

“I’m sure you’ll be a lady charmer when you grow a bit higher,” Sherlock commented drily. John smirked, “And it seems you were right about being my lucky charm.”

“Did you know?” John asked.

Sherlock shook his head, “Not in the least. Sebastian left all the details out of the emails.”

“Then why’d you come? You two clearly don’t get along.”

Sherlock smirked and waved the check, “Clearly,” Sherlock answered, “Can’t allow Mycroft to pay for all of your bills.”

“So lunch then?” John asked.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “You don’t have an appetite with the amount of sugar pasted around your month.”

John laughed, “Well, then, heard back from Raz?”

“Not yet, but I believe Van Coon is needing a visiting…”

“Van Coon?”

“Message had to be for someone there, John, and some of us weren’t trying to mug every single office lady for another share of sugars.”

“I was hoping someone would have a biscuit,” John admitted, “Mrs. Hudson packed me some tea after all.”

“You’re such a child,” Sherlock moaned.

“Clearly,” John rolled his eyes, “What else did you think I could be at this height?” He asked with a pointed stare up at the man that was clearly struggling not to laugh.

 

* * *

  
  


“Van Coon - and yet now, we’re standing in the middle of chinatown?”

“Soo lin,” Sherlock answered as if the name was reason enough, and John’s raised eyebrow poked more answers out of him, “Contact at the museum insisted, and it’s on the way.”

“Ah…”

“And you said you were hungry - after the sandwich remarks…”

“Oh God, a hot meal sounds fantastic.” Sherlock nodded with a tight smile, and John stared at Sherlock for a moment, “You’re being considerate,” John said slowly, “Why are you being considerate…”

Sherlock scratched the back of his head, “Lestrade said that’s what uncles are suppose to do.”

“But you’re not my uncle, you know that, and you’ve only taken to attempting such after last night. Why?”

“I figured if that’s what an uncle is suppose to do - then shouldn’t a friend try to do the same? It’s not like you can go off by yourself while I investigate after all.”

John stared at Sherlock, and he almost felt a fly fly into his mouth, “Sherlock,” He said slowly, “That’s -” He closed his mouth, and he felt the tear ducts in his face rebel against his notions of masculinity. Sherlock paled as he realized the tears were about to fall.

“John - What- What have I done wrong?”

“Nothing?” He rubbed at his eyes, “Did I mention the crying - just I’m touched is all.”

Sherlock didn’t look like he believed it quite, but his panic started to fade away, “Besides I can’t just keep letting you and Mrs. Hudson be the accommodating ones.” He nodded at the pack on John’s back.

John laughed, “‘Course you knew about that.” John glanced about, “A bakery then? Something for on the road?”

“I thought-”

“As you said - with the amount of sugar I had not all that hungry after all…”

Sherlock smirked, “Bakery then Soo Lin’s flat then?”

“Yeah,” John answered, “And thanks, Sherlock. I do appreciate the thought.”

Sherlock’s smile was tight, “Dull. I’m not good at that sort of thing, John. I apologize in advance.”

“I’m surprised you’ve put this together on your own.”

Sherlock opened his mouth for a moment before committing to his answer,“Lestrade emailed me, and along with his offer to babysit -”

“Oh God-”

“He mentioned that it may help - since I’m new at whole parenting thing as he put it-”

“ _ Sherlock- _ ”

“To think of what it would be like in your shoes.”

“Oh,” John commented simply, “And - I’m guessing you tried to do exactly that then?”

“Realized at that point that I was pointedly trying to do the exact opposite,” Sherlock answered, “Still made the same point that way though.”

“Ah.” John stumbled to keep up with Sherlock’s gait. He hadn’t noticed stopping, “What would that even be like?”

Sherlock smirked.

“You’re right. I don’t even want to think about it.”

“That wasn’t what I expected you to pick,” Sherlock said staring down at John who had the bear head shaped red bean bun in his hands - the rest of his foods packed away in his backpack for the rest of the day.

“Oh?” John asked.

“I mean, bear shaped? Rather childish-” A glare leveled at his face as he recalled John’s interactions with the counter help, “Point made.”

“You have Soo Lin’s address, I hope.”

“This way.”

 

* * *

 

Sherlock had the ladder down in front of him, “I suppose you’ll have to climb up first.”

John raised an eyebrow, “You want me to help you break into the flat?”

“The window is open, John.”

John rolled his eyes before climbing up the ladder, “I’m only doing this because I would really rather not explain why I’m sitting outside Soo Lin’s flat if someone asks why I’m sitting there.”

Sherlock smirked, “Of course.”

“Shut up.”

 

* * *

 

“Shit,” John hissed as the vase shattered on the floor, “Couldn’t reach it in time,” He explained as Sherlock’s gaze lingered on the mess on the floor. Sherlock simply nodded.

“Fair enough.”

“So what exactly are we in here looking for?” John whispered.

“It hasn’t been long that she’s been away from the flat,” Sherlock answered as he looked around, “But we do need to find a reason or a hint at where she might have gone after getting that message back at the museum.”

John nodded, “Right then - Like what?”

Sherlock stared at John for a moment before answering, “Stay here and don’t touch anything,” He answered simply.

John rolled his eyes, “Fine,” He answered with an awkward shuffle about. He set his backpack at his feet, opened it and pulled out the textbook, set it beside him, “I’ll keep watch then.”

“I doubt that-”

“I doubt she’s just decided to disappear from her life here without a threat against her life, and if that’s the case then it’s just as likely that someone else has come around here looking for her as well. Considering our-”

“Your.”

“- luck? I’m gonna prepare for the likelihood that we’re gonna have a bit of an overlap in timing, kay?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “You worry too much, John,” He grumbled, “But do whatever it is that makes you feel better about yourself.”

“And if it saves your life?” John snapped, “Then I expect you never to hand me over to a babysitter.”

When Sherlock left the room, John didn’t leave his spot. Then there were the sounds of a fight, a thud and a grunt or two, and John had his gun in his hands a moment later.

As he rushed into the living room, he pointed the gun at the assailant who in turn pushed Sherlock at John. Sherlock stumbled forward, and John was buried under the bigger man. In the fraction of a minute that it took for Sherlock to get himself off of John the assailant was already gone. A small bit of origami sat on the floor where he’d been standing only a moment earlier.

Sherlock bent down, and picked it up. “What is it?” John asked as he tucked his gun into the back of his waistband.

Sherlock looked up at John with the hint of a smile that he always got when all of his brain’s gear were pushed into full throttle, “A hint,” He answered, “It seems we’ve just met our mysterious messenger. We really should go check on Mr. Van Coon now, shouldn’t we, John?”

A swift nod of agreement and the two men were out the window they’d used to enter the place to begin with.

 

* * *

 

 

“Well,” John grumbled, swinging back and forth on the balls of his feet, “If he’s not home - what are we going to do now?”

“Same thing we did with Soo Lin,” Sherlock answered, “Just not as simply,” He tapped the nameplate above Van Coon’s, “New name - new occupant. Not likely to know what our Mr. Van Coon looks or sounds like…”

“So we’re going to lie and then break into Van Coon’s apartment?” Sherlock glanced at John with a raised eyebrow. John rolled his eyes, “You’re right,” John answered, “I shouldn’t be surprised by you any more at this point.”

John hated for a moment how use he was getting to seeing Sherlock’s smile. It was always affiliated with something that in any other style of life would lead to an arrest and a stint with some time in jail.

 

* * *

 

 

“Well,” John said simply, “Looks like a suicide to me.”

“Because you’re an idiot - oh don’t look like that, John. Most everyone is. I’m gonna call Lestrade - Don’t touch anything-”

“Not an actual child, Sherlock.”

“I have your gloves though. If you want to take a look at the body while we wait.”

“Nope. I think cause of death is rather apparent this time. So thanks, but no. And if that was some round about way of trying to get me to look around at other things? No. I’m a doctor, Sherlock, not a detective despite what you think about children and their brain plasticity I am not interested in a different career field. I think I’ll save rooting around the dead man's underwear for you.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Suppose we ought to tell Sebastian,” John mumbled as they left Van Coon’s flat. Sherlock rolled his eyes but nodded. Then a slight buzz happened from his coat. He checked his phone.

“Nevermind that,” Sherlock answered, “Seems Raz is looking for me.”

“Hoping to ditch me with some more paint is he?”

“Seems he’s found the same paint somewhere. No time to update Sebastian, I doubt he’d have any leads for us to follow if we went to him right now, anyways.”

John nodded, reluctantly, “He is the one paying you-”

“Boring. Come on, John. There’s something interesting to do.”

 

* * *

 

 

Once they got to the skate park, and started looking about it wasn’t long until John was yawning. Or at least it didn’t feel like it was very long, in reality it was four hours. Started at five ish and so he was yawning at nine, but this time around he was alone crawling around the skatepark and the other narrow back roads of London looking for any traces of the graffiti that he could find. 

By nine-thirty, when he could barely stand up on his feet, he found a wall filled with their artist’s work. He tried to call Sherlock. He felt himself sway for a moment, snapped a picture of the wall, tried to call Sherlock again as he knew at this point he’d pushed himself too far. He smiled briefly for a moment, before brushing his hand against the wall to help glide himself down. He texted Sherlock.  _ Hell of an adrenaline crash. _

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re on my phone,” John grumbled as he sat up on their couch at Baker’s street, “That is my private device.”

“Year of birth?” Sherlock snorted, “Hardly Fort Knox.”

“Could have used your own phone-”

“Hardly. The wall was covered in black spray paint by the time I found you. Ten minutes, John? Couldn’t have stayed awake for ten minutes?”

John answered that with a roll of his eyes and a fumble back into the laying down position, “Did you find the photo that I took?”

“Currently sending it to my email so I can print it out.”

“What time is it?”

“Midnight.”

“It took you nearly three hours to check my phone?” John asked, snapping up.

Sherlock pointedly ignored John’s wide eyed gaze, “I tried scraping away the paint first.”

John snorted, “I’m too tired to properly enjoy this. I’m going back to sleep now, Sherlock.”

“Please do.”

Once Sherlock set the phone on the coffee table beside John and headed to bed himself, there was a buzz. John rolled over and picked up the phone to check it. Some habits died hard. He found a year in his messages.

Sent from Mycroft. They really had to sweep the apartment for bugs first chance- No, wait. The phone was the bug. He nodded with that realization, and it back down on the coffee table, “I’ll steal his phone in the morning,” He grumbled.

A buzz, and a quiet curse from John as the buzzing didn’t stop with the lack of reading it.  _ You won’t be able to do that, and really, it will be quiet worth it, Doctor. _

“I hate you, Mycroft,” John grumbled before he did such. Luckily Sherlock had left his phone on his desk, on John’s charger.

_ Sherlock - Take John home. He snapped a picture. _

“You were right,” John admitted as he stumbled back to the couch, “Worth it, but I still hate you.”

_ Sleep, John. _

 

* * *

 

 

“Why are we at the museum, Sherlock?”

“Why were you on my phone?”

“Why are we still talking about this? Are you just bitter that I’ve come to find out that Mycroft is the smarter one?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Hardly,” He grumbled, “If you must know,” He said, finally getting to the point, “There was another victim. In the papers. A journalist. According to Lestrade they had a paper origami matching Van Coon’s.”

“So?” John provided, “Come back here then for some more leads on her?”

“Oh, look. You’re keeping up- Ow! Why my shin, John?”

“Kids lack impulse control, Sherlock. You were being rude.”

“Oh, I doubt your brain has an affected hippocampus considering your memory retention - and the retained scars.”

John simply shrugged, “I don’t know, after all you keep insisting that I have increased brain plasticity since I’m a child again.”

Sherlock simply frowned, “Your maturity astounds me.”

John smirked and looked up at the looming man, “As you should. It puts yours to shame.”

“I thought you said  I was being rude.”

John’s smirk went nowhere, “You’re impossible at times, and I was still a soldier, Sherlock. As much as you prefer to point out my history as a doctor. Be glad you never have to worry about getting into a fist fight with me. I use to have some very bad days - and a very good right hook.”

Sherlock simply shook his head and strolled ahead, “Come along, John. We have work to do.”

John snorted, “Right.”


	4. A Shot In the Dark

* * *

 

“Your nephew is weird,” The museum man commented as John was the one standing in front of him interviewing the man.

“My uncle is currently wandering around not paying you a lick of attention. Would you rather watch that man work or engage with him so you can be the butt of his verbal abuse?”

“Sherlock,” The man cooed, “Your nephew is really kinda freaking me out.”

“The teapots were apart of Soo Lin’s work, weren’t they?” Sherlock answered in response.

“Yeah,” He answered, “If they’re not properly treated they’ll crumble into dust. Apparently you have make tea in them regularly.”

“And no one else has been doing that work?”

“Not since the tea ceremony you two watched a couple of days ago. It hasn’t been long enough for them to find a replacement and everyone else already has work loads of their own. I’m trying, but…”

“John, what do you see?”

“I’m not a detective, Sherlock. I see teapots.”

“The last time we were here, only one of the teapots had a shine. Now, there are two. Mr. I’m not a detective, what does that tell you?”

“She’s still doing her job?”

Sherlock nodded, “We’ll need to stay in past closing to solve this case. We know she isn’t going home after all. So, she must be staying somewhere near here, if not here. Can you pull those strings for us?”

“I’ll -I”ll see what I can do.”

 

* * *

 

 

“No, Sherlock, you’re not sneaking up on her! And, you’re most certainly not giving her a pathetic line like that!” John hissed from their spot in the hallway outside of the work room, “Not unless you want to break a centuries old Chinese teapot! She’s going to drop it if you do that.”

“And, clearly, I’ll catch it as she’ll drop it mid turn to the new comer.”

“She is literally living in a museum to avoid a death threat.  _ You’re not giving her a heart attack. _ ”

“Oh - And what’s your plan then?”

“I’m a child, Sherlock. They get lost, and separated from their parents all the time. And, clearly this museum doesn’t have any sort of security if one of their ‘missing’ employees can just live in their - who know what - air vents? I’m just going to stand there and watch and  _ I’m going to let her notice me rather then the other way around. _ ”

“Boring.”

“Sherlock, this isn’t about being entertaining, you’re being a drama queen.”

“I- I am _ not  _ a drama queen.”

“Yes, yes you are.”

 

* * *

 

 

John stood across from Soo Lin as she performed the same ceremony her coworker had days before before him and Sherlock. Watching her hands showed in hindsight exactly what Sherlock had seen straight away about the man’s incompetence. It explained why he hadn’t touched them since.

She slowly set down the teapot, leaving John to presume that she’d finished the act, and followed it briefly with a glance up. That glance up was followed with a double take, “What- What you doing here, love?”

John swung back and forth rather then raise an eyebrow at that use of the word ‘love’, “They turned off the lights on me,” He said simply.

The lights on the work tables flickered on, and both turned to look at Sherlock, “You got her attention, John. No need to lie further. We’re here looking for you, Soo Lin. Care to explain the cipher behind the message you got? It was given to two other men - who are now dead. Why aren’t you?”

“Sherlock.”

“Not to be rude that is, but I really must know. I know the assassin has a really firm grip, solid style to his work, from personal experience. So please, explain to me how you’re able to avoid him and his quality of work with so much ease?”

John was left grumbling and shaking his head as he cleared space for Sherlock to take center stage. It was simply what one did when you lived -and worked- with drama queens, “Who are you then to survive work that you praise so highly?” Soo Lin asked with a frown.

“Sherlock Holmes,” He answered simply, “And my nephew here was pointing a gun at him to chase him off. I think, if a child points a gun at anyone the safest response is to leave. I think he thought that would be a dangerous enough spot for me to be in. If it wasn’t John? I would have concurred.”

“Why are asking me these questions, Mr. Holmes?”

“I don’t want to see anyone else die,” He answered simply before pulling out the photography they’d printed of John’s photo. He slide it across the table, “And I believe this is the key to preventing that.”

She nodded, “Perhaps,” She pulled out a pen, and started to write down the translation, “But they are after me because I ran away. They are the Chinese Triad, Black Lotus. The man after me is my brother, Mr. Holmes.” John frowned, set his backpack at his feet, unzipped it, pulled out the textbook and then, with his hight used the table to block Soo Lin’s view of him as he discreetly tucked his gun into the back of his trousers.

She grabbed a book and started to flip about in it, adding further translations. Sherlock nodded, “Those were numbers. It’s a book cypher.”

“Indeed,” She grumbled, “Looks as though those other men involved stole something.”

“Banker - Journalist - _They were smugglers_. They’re going after their rogue agent and suspected smugglers who are skimming off the top.”

Soo Lin nodded and finished the last of the translation work, “This is a message, Mr. Holmes-”

The lights cut off.

“He’s found me,” She whispered, “Zhi Zhu. He’s here.”

John glanced towards Sherlock and saw the man racing for the door, “Sherlock!” He hissed.

“I’m going after him, John!” As if that clarification was what John wanted to here.

“You’re not going after him alone! I’m -” A firm hand on his shoulder cut off his sentence.

“I am not watching you die by chasing after your uncle. My brother is a dangerous man,” Soo Lin hissed.

He frowned at that, “Then why the bloody hell are we standing out here in the open!” He snapped before grabbing her hand, “ _ This way _ .”

They sat in silence until John heard the gunshots, but a firm hand on his shoulder was accompanied by, “Your uncle will be fine.”

He frowned, because clearly she wasn’t the best of listeners if she’d already forgotten that Sherlock had confessed to the fact that he was only alive because of John’s save earlier.

Or it was too preposterous to believe. He reluctantly admitted as he stayed by her side. Still, he found himself preferring to think the former.

 

* * *

 

 

Sherlock was out of breath. He stood behind the pillar that the gunman was trying to shoot him through, “Please! Some of these skulls are over two thousand years old! Have a bit of respect!” Sherlock took the moment to gather his breath after that bit of shouting.

Then he realized the gunman had stopped, “Thanks,” He mumbled, but then he realized the better deduction of why that would be.

Zhi Zhu was after Soo Lin after all.

Then a gunshot echoed through the museum, and he knew exactly where to run to.

 

* * *

 

 

“You, bloody bastard,” John hissed the moment Sherlock belted through the open door to the office they’d hidden in. He weakly pointed at Sherlock with the gun still in his hand, “You just left me behind.”

“I knew you would handle it, John. You always do.”

“No, you didn’t,” John’s voice still ragged and tired from shooting a man - or from having to deal with the woman’s reaction to seeing a kid do that. Zhi Zhu laid at their feet, “You get your kicks this way, Sherlock. Running off into danger. Ran after a gunman without your own bleeding gunman!”

“It seems to have paid off.”

“He’s killed his targets without use of weapons, Sherlock! I should have been the one chasing him while you protected Soo Lin!”

“Been thinking about this since the moment I left, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” John snapped, “I was because it was bloody idiotic.”

“You weren’t kidding earlier?” Soo Lin whispered.

John would have thrown his arms up in defeat if he wasn’t holding a weapon that had just proven itself capable of killing a man, “Want to critique my language as well while you're at it?” John snapped as he stomped away towards his abandoned backpack, “I’ve had a shitty childhood, Soo Lin. Let’s leave it at that - I’m sure you relate to that.”

“He’s my nephew,” Sherlock added, “He gets like that.”

Soo Lin paled, “I am not sure that helps with reassuring me to trust you.”

“Considering I just bloody saved your life, you bet it should!” John shouted as he tossed the gun back into the textbook. Threw the book back into the bag, zipped it up and tossed the strap over his shoulder, “Now, Sherlock. I believe we should be taking Soo Lin into protective custody now or something?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “You have just killed a man, John.”

“Yeah, well, he wasn’t a very nice one. Now, I doubt an international smuggling ring has just one hitman - and I think my luck has demonstrated proper cause of paranoia in these regards, Sherlock.”

“Never dull anyways,” Sherlock grumbled with a quick glance down to the man who laid with his head in a pool of blood. He looked up at Soo Lin, “Are you okay?” He asked, gently, softly, because even with his complicated relationship with his brother he could never imagine what it would be like to have a sibling so hell bent on physically ruining his life. On actually wanting him dead.

“I think,” She whispered softly, “That protective custody sounds good now, Mr. Holmes. If that is actually an option for me.”

“It is,” He answered softly before quickly taking off his coat and setting it around her arms, “I’ll have John call my contact at the force, and they’ll be right over. You’re safe, Soo Lin.”

She nodded weakly, “Thank you,” She whispered. She looked up at the boy standing in the doorframe with his backpack on, “John- was it?” He nodded simply. The fire in his stomach was clearly fueled by his adrenaline, “You save my life. Thank you.”

He nodded once more, “Don’t mention it.”

“Honestly though,” Sherlock added, “Best we not mention that you killed a man, John. I doubt they’d convict you, but I think that is a court case we’d all wish to avoid.”

Soo Lin smiled, very weakly, and she nodded, “I will say whatever you want - it is the least I can do.”

 

* * *

 

 

“My brother was a man with many enemies, Detective Lestrade,” Soo Lin whispered. She wiped away at the tears that were finally flooding downhill her face, “Apologizes. It is all now so real. I can’t believe it.”

Lestrade glanced at Sherlock, “So she was alone you say?”

“I was chasing after the shooter, and I knew Soo Lin was the target. It only seemed best at the time to keep John by my side.”

“And drag him straight in the line of fire?”

“Seemed better then the alternative. I know now not to let him leave my line of sight. That was your request now wasn’t it, Lestrade?”

“Bloody Holmes,” Greg grumbled with a shake of his head. He wrapped a guiding arm around Soo Lin, “Lets take you somewhere you can rest.”

“Please,” She whispered, “I just want to grieve for now, Detective. He was my brother. I am so sorry I am not of more hope.”

“Don’t be. I’ll ask for a proper statement in the morning…”

 

* * *

 

Sherlock stood beside the tiny form of John Watson as they both watched as Lestrade drove Soo Lin off towards safety and the rest of the task force he’d brought with him was busy milling about in the crime scene processing all of the evidence. He glanced down at John and saw the boy yawn, “Baker’s street?” He asked.

“Hm?” John replied.

“You barely look like you’re able to stand on your feet,” Sherlock commented. John held up his arms, “What are you doing?”

“You’re right,” He answered, “I look like that for a reason.”

“So you want me to carry you?”

“That is typically what adults do with children,” John replied tensely, “Don’t make this any more awkward for either of us then it needs to be.”

Sherlock nodded tensely and gingerly picked up John by his armpits and kept him at that awkward distance held out in front of him. John glared at the grown man, “You carried me back to Baker’s St just yesterday, Sherlock. Is this really how you did it?”

Sherlock frowned, but he obliged. He pulled John closer, resting his forehead on his shoulder and adjusting his arms so that John was hamocked in his arms, “Better?” He asked softly.

“Hm hmm,” John nodded with a more than muffled yawn, “Adrenaline crashes, Sherlock,” He mumbled, “I thought they were bad at the full size.”

“I’m just thrilled you're not grumpy when you’re tired. Lestrade warned me to watch out for that,” Sherlock answered as he ginger started his way down the steps of the museum.

“When did he do that?”

“Email. When he offered to babysit.”

“Ah.”

“Are you okay, John?”

“Hm? Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You have just killed a man,” Sherlock answered softly as he extended his arm out to hail a cab. John was too tired to mention anything about the fact that Sherlock nearly dropped him in the process.

“Yeah,” John grumbled, “I suppose I have. But, I also saved three lives in the process.”

“Are you miscounting?” Sherlock asked, “You and Soo Lin are only two.”

“If Zhi Zhu wasn’t going to go after you as well to just move you off the playing board while you were busy acting like an idiot chasing after him without a weapon, then I still saved your life by saving mine ‘cause you’re shot at looking after yourself by yourself.”

Sherlock snorted in derision, “I managed just fine before I met you, John.”

“You were going to risk your life just to prove you’re clever - and you’d do it again. We both know it.”

“I was not, and I would not.”

“You did, you do and you will do. Why? Because, Sherlock Holmes, you are the smartest idiot that I know.”

“I think you’re too tired to hold a coherent conversation, John,” Sherlock grumbled as a cab pulled up.

John flicked weakly at Sherlock’s chin, “Drama queen.”

A faint snore made its way up to Sherlock’s ears, and he worked slowly at getting them both into the cab.


	5. Finding Entertainment

* * *

 

 

There was a pounding on the door that woke John up. He tried to roll out of his bed when something tightened around him, and he finally looked to see that Sherlock had fallen asleep with John on him with a laptop fallen to the side with an auction site pulled up, with listings of Chinese antiques. He squinted to see more details and found the listings as anonymous, “Whelp,” John grumbled, “Looks like you found how they’re getting rid of their smuggled products.”

The pounding at the door picked back up, and John struggled out of Sherlock’s grasp. Thumped on the floor having had made it over the back of the couch somehow, “Coming!” John shouted before the pounding could continue. Sherlock grumbled and rolled over, but he didn’t wake up.

John went over to the door and opened it to reveal Detective Lestrade standing in the door frame, “Good morning, John. Hope I didn’t wake you up.”

John pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the time,  “Detective. It’s six in the morning, and you know exactly how late we were out last night. If you didn’t mean to-”

“I would have thought you to be in your bedroom, John. I do know that it’s upstairs.”

“And your pounding could have woken the dead,” Sherlock, the man that had slept through it, called out from his spot on the couch, “Now, do let the poor man in, John. What is that you wish to discuss, Lestrade?”

“I was hoping I could talk with you in private, Sherlock.”

Sherlock brushed it away, “John is perfectly fine with any sort of conversation as you well know, and I am quite fine with him hearing any such as well,” Sherlock answered finally standing and picking up his laptop from the ground, “What is? We haven’t gotten all day - we have a triad functioning in London under the very nose of Scotland Yard - and only so long to look before they strike again.”

“See,” Lestrade rubbed at his nose, “It’s about that. I don’t believe you should be dragging John around you while you do work that dangerous. It nearly got him killed last night.”

Sherlock opened his mouth to protest, but he closed it as John’s foot met the back of his leg, “What are you proposing then, Lestrade?” He answered through gritted teeth and pointedly not glancing down at the little hellion at his feet.

“That I watch him at the station while you do your work, Sherlock,” Lestrade answered with a brisk nod, “It’s the best course of action that I can see.”

Sherlock opened his mouth, but he glanced to the side as John scrambled up the couch and pulled on Sherlock’s sleeve. He bent slightly so John could, in a childishly dramatic way, whisper in his ear, “It’s not like we can tell him the truth,” John hissed, “We’ll have to pretend.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, “Are you trying to get out of working, John?” He whispered right back, hand covering his mouth as well.

“Not at all. With my luck I’ll be at the station when they try another attempt on Soo Lin,” John responded, “But we haven’t properly read the message she translated, nor identified the theft by the smugglers. Or where the triad even is. None of which you need me for.”

Sherlock frowned, “But I need an assistant.”

“You told me that was the skull’s job before I arrived,” John shrugged, “I mean, unless you want to explain why you’re acting so cavalier with your nephew’s life that is.”

Sherlock frowned, “It would be petty and selfish of me to do so, and neither of which the detective would put past me.”

“Precedent,” John hissed, “We need a precedent of cooperation with the man or else it will only be harder down the road - and this is going to be the cheapest time for us to concede to his demands.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and strolled away in defeat, “Fine. Take the boy,” He pulled a flyer out of his pocket and handed it to Lestrade, “Met up with me here tonight. You’re not keeping the boy over night.”

“I’m not trying to steal your nephew, Sherlock!”

“Then explain to me why exactly you’re acting so protective of a boy that isn’t yours?”

“Sherlock,” John hissed.

“Because he’s a kid, Sherlock!” The detective snapped with a pointed, accusing finger at the consultant, “And you keep seeming to forget that.”

“I’ll try harder in the future,” Sherlock answered through gritted teeth.

Lestrade frowned, rubbed the bridge of his nose and then finally glanced at John, “What do you want then?” He asked.

John glanced at his feet, “I want to stay with Sherlock,” He grumbled, “But I can see how that might not be for the best.”

“At least we have a mature one,” Lestrade grumbled.

“I’ll go get ready,” John grumbled before glancing at Sherlock. He frowned pointedly at the man, and pulled on his sleeve once more so he whisper in the man’s ear, “Couldn’t have just let it happen, could you?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes before stomping over to his violin and filling the room with scratching.

 

* * *

 

 

Sherlock was standing next to the ticket stand when Lestrade, with heavily pronounced bags under his eyes, came in with John holding his hand. John beamed up at Sherlock, “I was right,” He piped up cheerfully.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, “Oh? Right about what, John?”

“Someone tried to get to Soo Lin while she was in the station. We were lucky that no one accounted for the kid that tripped the would be assailant as the killer entered the cell.”

“That explains the bags under your eyes, Detective.”

“Laugh it up,” Lestrade grumbled.

John smirked, “How was your day, Uncle Sherlock?”

“I got a paper cut on the photograph as I pulled it out of my pocket. Nothing else happened beside that,” Sherlock answered with a shrug. 

John glanced up at Lestrade, “If that’s the case, then I’m really glad I went with Uncle Lestrade! Who’d have thought I could have stopped an international assassin all on my own!?”

The detective’s eyes met Sherlock’s, “Is this what you were like as a kid?”

Sherlock shrugged, “I was too busy blowing up labs and sneaking out of boarding school to stop international assassins.”

John shrugged and started bouncing up and down, “What about the circus?” He moaned.

Sherlock simply stared at John for a moment as he tried to deduce if his friend had somehow been replaced by an actual child before John’s wicked grin concluded that boredom - or perhaps the amount of acting he’d had to perform to keep up appearances - had proven to be very dangerous thing for the man indeed, “I already picked up the tickets. The show is right this way.”

 

* * *

 

 

John looked up at Sherlock, “Do you know where the restroom is, Uncle Sherlock?” He hated how childish the question sounded, like he needed someone to assist him.

Sherlock smirked, “Yes, John,” He held out his hand and looked up at Lestrade, “Looks like we might miss the opening act…”

Lestrade nodded, “I’ll be here.”

Sherlock nodded, and then lead John away from the crowds, “So when did you figure it out?” He asked.

John frowned, “After saving Soo Lin’s life for the second time. Rather focused on the Black Lotus around then. You knew exactly where the smugglers were hiding for quite some time, haven’t you?”

“Pieced it together last night actually. I thought it odd that a Chinese circus would only have one performance. Picked up the flyer at that bakery we went to.”

“Just my luck,” John grumbled.

“It seems so,” Sherlock laughed, “Really, John. I am fairly jealous of it to be honest. Never a dull moment when you’re around.”

“Hardy har har,” John grumbled, “Just keep laughing it up now will you?”

“Want to look around backstage?”

“Oh god yes.” John answered with a swift nod, “What did Soo Lin write, by the way?”

“Nine mill for jade hair pin black den tramway,” Sherlock answered swiftly.

“Huh,” John muttered, “Guess we know what they stole now then, huh?”

“Or at least where they make their transactions,” Sherlock agreed. He opened the door to the backstage prep, “Lead the way, Doctor.”

“What did you do without me all day then?”

“Tried to track down the hairpin,” Sherlock answered.

“Couldn’t find it?”

“Need more time. They didn’t try to sell it anyways.”

A squeak of a board, and then they were hiding.

 

* * *

 

 

Sherlock and John sat on their couch, neither listening to the lecture Lestrade was providing them with, “You can’t just go off on your own you two!”

John raised his eyebrows, the picture of childhood innocence, “Two?”

“Yes,” Lestrade hissed not buying it at all, “Don’t think I don’t know that _you_ were the one that started this. ‘Uncle Sherlock - Do you know where the bathroom is?’” He ran a hand down his face and started pacing, “Whatever did I do wrong to end up working with you two?”

“Prove to be incompetent,” Sherlock answered reflexively. A small rap to his leg and a moment later he was staring down at John with wide innocent eyes, “What did I do?”

“Bit not good that,” He hissed right back.

“What?” Sherlock snapped, “I’m not allowed to tell the truth now?”

Lestrade plopped down in the seat across from them, “Well, we missed some of the men while we waited for arrivals - did you find anything?”

Sherlock nodded, “They are the same triad - I’m sure Soo Lin will confirm that. We know they want a hair pin worth nine million quid, and that they want it returned to them at the abandoned black tramway.”

“Black tramway?” Lestrade asked, “Don’t you mean the Black Den tramway?”

Sherlock shook his head, “Black tramway is even older. Abandoned.” He stood up, “We should be headed there right away.”

Lestrade raised an eyebrow, “We?”

“Yes,” Sherlock answered, “Or at the very least, myself and John.”

“Oh?”

“I believe you’ve seen his competency for yourself, Detective. Why the hesitation?”

“Because I don’t even believe you know what you’re going on about - an old abandoned tramway line and a Chinese triad? What is this - a Bond novel? And how many times do I have to lecture you about taking your nephew with you into clear harm’s way?”

“And the station for him today was a safe option?”

“I didn’t know they’d prove to be so idiotic to attempt an assassination in a police station.”

“And if I recall, you said they’d nearly gotten away with it.”

“He’s not going with you, Sherlock.”

“Don’t I get a say?”

“No,” Lestrade snapped, “You’re just a child.”

Sherlock looked back at John, “I’ll hold down the detective while you take the lead?” He offered.

John’s gaze at Sherlock was enough that Sherlock could have picked up the moniker of Ice Man with a gaze that chilling, “I don’t think it’s worth assaulting a police officer over, Sherlock.” He panned drily, “I’ll stay here.” His stomach grumbled, “And we’ll order some take out.”

Sherlock nodded, “I’ll go see about the triad then and the safety of London then.”

Lestrade snorted, “You’re both ridiculous. You won’t find anything, Sherlock.”

Sherlock glanced over at Lestrade as he pulled his coat back on and he raised an eyebrow, “Am I ever wrong, detective?”

Lestrade simply frowned and watched the consulting detective leave, “What’s the closest take out?”

“Chinese,” John answered drily, irony not missed, gaze lingering at where Sherlock had just left.

 

* * *

 

 

Lestrade was not amused to find himself tied to a chair alongside Sherlock, “I thought you said it was Black not Black Den,” He grunted with a pointed glance over to the sign across from them.

“I lied,” Sherlock answered, “Didn’t want you following after me and botching the whole thing up.”

“You’re doing that quite well on your own,” Lestrade grumbled, “How long do you think it will take for them to reappear- Never mind. Speak of the devil.”

“If you think that I’ve found your hair pin,” Sherlock quipped as the trio approached, “Then you’re dead wrong.”

There was a soft laughter, “Not in the least, Mr. Holmes, though perhaps we would have spared your life then. No. We are interested in your companion.”

“My companion?” Sherlock squinted before glancing over at Lestrade, “What did you do to tick of an international crime syndicate?”

Lestrade shrugged, or tried to considering his bonds.

“We mean the boy, great skill he has,” She cooed, “Once he is an orphan we will be to easily pick him up out of the system and raise him as our own.”

Sherlock laughed. How could he not? “What?”

“We have an employer who is interested in buying him from us once he’s conditioned to kill more than just bad men.”

Sherlock stopped laughing, “There’s someone else that’s interested in John?”

She nodded, and leveled a gun at Sherlock’s face, “So, where is the boy?”

Sherlock glanced back at Lestrade, “He was with -”

“Said the carry out never arrives that quickly,” Lestrade grumbled, “Told him if he was that afraid of a stranger he was free to hide in the flat.”

“Brilliant,” Sherlock grumbled before turning back to the assassin aiming to take his life, “I have no idea then. As you said, he’s a clever boy.”

“It is a shame then,” She answered, cocking the gun, “Goodbye, Mr. Holmes.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” A shout echoed through the tunnel, a little winded, but Sherlock’s eyes grew wider as he recognized it with ease, “According to my therapist, I have trust issues.”

“John?” Lestrade grumbled, “How did -”

“Sherlock might have lied to you, but I was there when Soo Lin wrote down the translation. I knew the moment he lied to you, and I knew he’d wind up in this sort of trouble.”

“Just your luck?” Lestrade provided.

“His in this case actually,” John answered, “Now, put the gun down unless you want me proving just how sharp my aim is in person, Miss. Very Much A Bad Man.”

She motioned for the other two with her to head in the direction of John’s voice, “Oh,” He whispered, “Sending men four times my height after me? Very fair.”

A tall adult form slide out of the shadows and handled the men swiftly before sliding back from sight, “Want to try again?” John asked.

Sherlock glanced up to the gun pointed at his head once more, “Dull,” He commented. He quickly glanced over at Lestrade, “Do you really think you or your employer can have John now if you can’t even manage a clean getaway?” A small feminine figure clinked her heels on concrete, the same tall adult form that had downed four men on her own.

The woman frowned, but she ran. Sherlock frowned as he watched her flee, but he rather appreciated the fact that his head was still solidly attached to his shoulders. He glanced over at the figure and found ‘Not’ Anthea staring down at him.

“Of course John called Mycroft.”

“I mean,” John piped up, now approaching as well, “They kinda did kidnap the detective in front of my eyes, and you have such a solid track record with getting out of your own predicaments. Of course I called Mycroft. Would you have rather I explained to Mrs. Hudson why I needed her help to flag down a cab at this hour?”

“No one likes a braggart, John.”

“We still keep you around anyways, Uncle Sherlock. Now, I haven’t gotten dinner yet, and you’ve finally finished your case. Chinese?”

“She ran off with the key, Sherlock,” Lestrade grumbled. Sherlock nodded to John, who promptly started to dig around Sherlock’s shoe.

“Told you they’d be useless down here,” John grumbled as he held up the lock pic.

Sherlock frowned, “Do you want to get us out yourself?” He snapped.

John raised an eyebrow, “Do you want me to try?”

Sherlock’s frown only grew deeper, “Just hand it over already,” He grumbled, “Then we’ll go out and grab the blasted dinner you were whining on about.”

Lestrade glanced at the new comer, “So, huh, how is that you know Sherlock?”

She simply smiled, “Above your paygrade,” Sherlock answered for her.

“Oh,” Lestrade mumbled, “Don’t you Holmes have any ordinary friends?”

“Ha,” Sherlock answered, “Who does ordinary? Ordinary is dull.”

“Sounds delightful at the moment actually,” John answered wistfully.

“Boring, John,” Sherlock answered as he finally clicked the pick into exactly the right spot, “Now, Lestrade, let's get you out of those cuffs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plan was to post Intermission #2 tomorrow as a gap between the episodes. However, doing plot edits for part three - The London Game - has revealed far more intensive then I had first planned. Won't be going up til Friday. I did however take a break this morning to get a clear head on the narrative and will be posting the Werewolf!John & Vampire!Sherlock au, two part in the unplanned interim as way of apology on that front. I'm a sucker for the Werewolf!John au's especially with the reveal being set during the Hounds of Baskerville so it's got a part one for set up, and then the second is Sherlock parsing it together. Nothing deep and overly complicated in its status as an AU like this one is. Just lots of my own wishfulliment. There aren't nearly enough Werewolf!John fics on this site. Although - A Study in John by keerawa is best. And I know my take will have absolutely nothing compared to that work of art. 
> 
> On the other hand, getting back on point now, the delay and plot edits mean that I might have more then the three parts as I'd original promised to have on this crossover. Because I now have a 4.5k word outline for our Baker's St Boys since last night had me finishing up some work on figuring my way through a few holes that had tripped me up. Tentatively it is now at the point of having an conclusive ending. At least, eventually. It's gonna take a long time for me to actually have it finished and then edited on top of that. That is nearly 20 pages of outline/notes after all. I would highly recommend subscribing to the series if you want to keep involved. I can't see on the back hand how those are going so I'm gonna mention that you can in fact sub to the series as a whole if you want to keep tabs on it going forward.
> 
> I'm really excited, and I'm hoping to do the best I can on this one. I hope you - firstly have enjoyed the ride so far - but also that you enjoy the ride up ahead. :)
> 
> TLDR??? Not much shorter, but less distracted! I promise!!
> 
> No update on this series, most likely, til Friday. More intensive edits are required then initially planned. However, when I initially mentioned this series - I said I only had plans for the first three segments - which as you'll have noticed would have ended with Series One - aka cliffhanger. 
> 
> I now have 20 pages of notes and outline. I now have an ending planned to both narrative and character arcs. So, if you're interested, highly recommend subscribing to the series. I am going offline for a couple month minimum starting the 26th, six months maximum, and this is due to work. I can't help it. I like eating. I do however like writing nearly as much, and as such I do promise that I will be returning to this work until it's completion no matter what.


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